Cross Dimensional Tournament of Gods!
by Leider Hosen
Summary: The Awkward moment when you eat your dessert first... (Now in Engrish!)
1. Round 1

AN: Pain, Anguish, Betrayal! Hosen-Sama said he would update Dragon Souls and he didn't, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Well, I'm half done with next chapter, sadly I've been on vacation for the last week and thus have been unable to write, that and my vacation ended on a very sour note, so I'm feeling pretty down right now, and thought I could cheer myself up with some humor.

Projects can take on a life of their own: you can fall in love with it if you hit some sweet notes. Sadly just the opposite can happen as well: I hate SvS. It was fun the first few chapters, so I'll keep the story and may update in the future, but it has become so mean-spirited and trite it's hard to sit down and stick at it.

But, it would be unfair to my readers to deny them the best part of the story, which I was really looking forward to doing, so here it is. The ultimate battle of the gods as its own fic. One round per chapter.

All action, no fluff, much swearing and many immaturity. Doge dogg, fuck logic. No revisions made. Here we go.

…

The two lone figures wandered into the arena, shielding their eyes from the tremendous spotlights above. The roar of the crowd in the rows and rows of stadium seats was deafening to the forlorn fighters as overly dramatic and overplayed "epic" music blared in the background.

"Welcome to the cross dimensional stadium of the lords, I am your host, Marvelous _Chester_." The sinister host cackled over the radio, filling the stadium with yet another round of deafening applause which shook the very ground, the sky cloudy, the full moon peaking around the gaps upon occasion.

DSP gulped, his pants filling with bricks while Pistoff gave the finger to the camera, the appendage swelling up on the Jumbotron above the penhouse seats, a motley collection of teens (plus one pissed off lawyer) sitting below with their feet kicked up or lounging on the chairs. One of them, a brawny Englishmen with a skull mask looked over to a cleric in wearing blackened robes:

"'Ay Selfish, pass me the fucking popcorn would ya?"

"Get it yourself you twat!"

"This is feeling very Jolly-"

"No-one asked you Thomas."

"You're all giving me a headache!" Boomed a large, cynical man, dressed all in black with the glossy white mask of an assassin and a scythe that dripped darkness on his back.

"Shut it! I will revoke your fukn tickets and I won't even feel bad about it when I'm done scorching the fukn earth!" Boomed a tall, slender figure in ostentatious black armor with silver plates and grey hem, a black mask obscuring his face with a long hazel ponytail.

"He started it." The Darkwraith whined, pointing erratically at Selfish, the others just sighing or roflmaoing and watching the n00bs getting ready for their slaughter.

The two combatants settled at the center of the arena, the Victorian Assassin tapping his microphone:

"Alright, here are the rules, ahem." He started, looking at the blank sheet and throwing it to his side, his suave nature turning the paper into a lethal weapon, which deheaditated the waterboy and stuck in the wall with a clang-

*RIP Mister Wilkinson 1210-2014

"There are no rules. If at least one of you is able to survive the match, the other will be revived in the next round. All healing Items are allowed, and will be restocked at the end of each round, are you ready?"

"Damn right, get me back to Lordran you cruel assholes!" Boomed Pistoff, DSP looking to his feet,

"Wait, My Shoe's untied-"

…

There was a flash of blinding light, the duo getting some freaky LSD rainbow filters over their vision before they materialized in another world (ohhhhh spooky)

They seemed to be on the ramparts of Boletaria Castle, the stone fortifications lit up in the elegant midday while the flags waved softly in the calm afternoon. Chester buzzed over the intercom, which seemed to come from everywhere at once, the sky opening up into a monitor that seemed to shift over the various maps of the Soul/Scrolliverse.

"We have infected the various worlds with hidden cameras in order to track your progress, and so audiences can more easily laugh at your failure," he laughed, "This is the only time you will get a pause, the rest of the time you may be attacked at any time, good luck, and-"

He was interrupted by the sound of splashy and girly giggling, the screen shifting to the Lordran shower room after combat practice, the two nosebleeding a liter while many buttons were fumbled over-

"_Oh Dear_, avert your eyes from the screen, I will fix this, erm…" but, the assassin was so distracted he "accidently" hit the zoom button, the sound of deep catcalls heard clear from Cock of Doody, the sigh of despair even louder as the screen switched off-

"Technical difficulties, _fight!_"

"What?" DSP snapped, breaking from his trance while Pistoff drew his dwarven sword,

"Prepare yourselves, I smell a scrub… other than you." DSP stuck his tongue out at the orc, the sound of footfalls loud on the ground as a figure came up the stairs ahead, his vestige one of ungodly horror. Pistoff sputtered-

He was lean-

He was Overleveled-

He spammed lightning bolt-

"He stole my name!" DSP screamed, pointing an accusing finger at the interloper,

"Oh my god you're so fucking stooped!" Boomed the King of Manbabies, "You stole _my_ name, not my fault the naming thingy is so poorly programmed!"

"Can't talk now, let's fight!" Pistoff charged, swinging his blade, ramming his blade into the scrub with all his might-

There was a slight *ting*, the scrub's lifebar barely moving, his poise unaffected. The Scrub Lord laughed, the dovahkiin hitting him a few more times, only to realize his poise was unpoisebreakable and his vitality levels were clear over 50-

"What are you?" Pistoff uttered in terror, the scrub charging up a point blank WoG, which Pistoff easily evaded, though he was still shaken,

"I was grinding for like three weeks, you fucking dick! I am fucking, invincible!" he laughed, drawing his generic longsword and charging, the new dovahkiin cringing and blocking with his shield, only to see the longsword nary a tap on the surface-

"ah what the fuck, fucking broken sword mechanics!" he switched out his longsword a dragon greatsword, spamming the R2 and swearing each time Pistoff dodged the linear ray, He had power but no fucking clue how to use it! "What the fuck is this, this sword is so fucking broken!"

The orc ran, hitting the scrub for all he was worth while other DSP, rather than raising his shield , fatrolled around, suddenly drawing a chime and kneeling down-

"Hit him before he heals!" Pistoff barked, the chosen undead running up and whacking the Scrub Lord as hard as he could, but the overleveled poise was too strong to resist, a great golden ray sending Lord DSP's health to max as he stood, taking a backstab from other DSP and getting kicked off-

"What the hell, I was facing towards him with _my shield up_, this game is fucking broken!" he whined, Pistoff feeling part of himself die on his next words-

"Spam backstab, it's the only way!" And spam backstab he did, until the Manbaby was no more, a stream of expletives leaving his mouth as he collapsed, crumbling away, Pistoff stepping in with his last words-

"Learn to play the fucking game, bitch. _**Yol Tor Shul**_!" the scrublord was vaporized, ending his tyrannical rein.

"Nicely done," Marvelous Chester praised, "That was one down, about- 15 to go." The two cheered, until it sunk in…

"What?"


	2. Round 2

The blinding lights subsided, the duo finding themselves in the tournament area once again, the crowd still going apeshit at viewing the two ill-fated scrubs.

"Why is the tournament so fucking long!" DSP shouted, an elderly gentlemen standing.

"Why is it not so fucking long?"

"Well said Mr. Freud," Chester boomed, Pistoff still glaring up,

"Why are we back here?"

"Can you even conceive how expensive a dimension drive really is!" he shouted, "Over $400,000 for 12 seconds!" The two just sighed, DSP turning to Pistoff with hope in his scrub eyes,

"Well, the last round didn't go so badly, maybe this will easier than we thought!" They were interrupted by the sound of claws scraping the ground as the next combatant approached, Pistoff going wet in the drawers and white in the face-

"Oh god no." He whimpered, DSP looking on him with concern,

"Is it… a Boss?"

"Worse," he gulped, a form of molten magma lighting up the dark, "My Ex." She was made from liquefied magma, her form a spider's with a gaping, toothy maw that drooled magma onto the floor.

"Ich-" DSP cringed, "why would you…" It was then his eyes migrated up to the bosom of the great chaos witch, "Boobies."

"My face is up here!" she roared, the scrub jumping and looking her in her angular, harsh face,

"What are you doing here!?" The chosen choked, fearing whatever cruel alimonies may strike him down, "Shouldn't you be… um… in your boss fight?"

"I found a replacement," she hissed,

"Who would fight for you?"

…

The group of three daring fighters came through the fog, bearing their binoculars aloft,

"Prepare to get raped, beyotch!" one shouted, drawing his drakesword,

"Now your ass is going to burn in two ways!"

"Dude that's just creepy…"

"Shut it!" Suddenly, the Bosses music boomed, a great, deep chorus spelling doom for the trio of gankers, one of them gulping…

"Wait, that doesn't sound like her theme at all…"

They glanced down at the lifebar as the ground shook, a great boom sounding with every step, their faces bleaching the color of sheets as the syllables bit them like angry wasps…

"We- we don't have to worry, we can-" they didn't let him finish, because he was crushed under what looked to be a finger as thick as Prius, the ground exploding into confetti and blood as his tendril was drawn skyward, the pustulus, flowing flesh held in by a pair of worn overalls with a dopey look of rage on the creature's face, one buck tooth sticking out as his many orange eyes burned with wrath-

"Whad you say 'bout my sissy?" the hick demon drawled, his shoulders cracking as he cracked his hundreds of tendrils for the Texas-style ass whoopin of the millennium.

"The boobs were a lie." The host moaned, a single tear of despair rolling down his cheek before the Ceaseless Discharge…

…

"That's not important." Quelaag growled, "I came here because I am tired of being exploited by generations of young gamers for my body, I'm tired of constantly being made fun of, with all these allegations of being 'knocked up' or 'getting raped', these are important sociological issues that cannot be so easily made light of, even if this entire mindscape is a mere fiction.

The time has come, as the woman of videogames, to demand a higher standard of respect and dignity, to escape this oppressive net of objectification, we must-"

She paused, seeing the lens flair of a million binoculars, the cameras zoomed in on her assets, her rage boiling with rage-

"Oh forget it!" she roared, skittering forward with flames erupting all around her, chaos fireballs getting launched from her fists at the retreating scrubs as great plumes of explosions went all around her-

"I'm not hot, this is hot!" she roared, a great chaos firestorm engulfing the area while DSP and Pistoff just kept running,

"Since when can Quelaag launch flames!" DSP cried,

"I'm a goddamn daughter of Chaos, what did you fucking expect- daisies!" she shouted, a hail of firebolts flying by. DSP turned to Pistoff:

"Shouldn't you stab her or something!?"

"I don't wanna'!" he cried, "She's scary and on fire, and I could get sued, I can't go to jail again!"

"Why don't you shout at her!" The orc stopped, getting around and shaking as he yelled:

"You're not even that pretty!" He dived for cover when he was nearly sliced in half by a fire whip,

"I meant, use the voice!"

"Oh right," he said, using berserk mode and using ice shout, which did indeed freeze her, The chosen undead running in and breaking her with his dragon greatsword, panting in fear.

"Good, we won the fight." Pistoff said, DSP hanging his head,

"Maybe we won the fight against the chaos witch, but we lost the fight against tasteless and offensive content, perpetuating an already vicious cycle of stereotyping and cruelty towards man, and woman." The audience contemplated their actions, Chester whipping a tear from his snickering mask-

"What a touching, meaningful moment in the strangest of places…" he sighed, bringing his finger down on the red button and launching them into another world with a flash of light, projecting his dark laugh over the arena as he grabbed a buttery croissant and tea, "What a glorious occupation I've chosen."


	3. Round 3

"Where the fuck are we now?" Pistoff barked, the duo landing on some random ass hill in the middle of nowhere, DSP looking about over the rolling hills, a large stone fortress in the distance.

"It looks like I'm finally home." DSP mumbled dreamily, until they heard the footfalls of a thousand men approaching, Pistoff looking through his list of shouts.

"So were fighting one of the pansies from your world now? I thought-" His voice died as more Draugr Deathlords than had any right to deathlord came over the hill along with columns of skelingtons.

Both fighters knew the law: never fuck with a warrior with a horned helm. They trembled as the skeleton and undead army, backed up by legions of Dwemer, came down the hill, a great soldier upon a dark horse with burning red eyes looked down on them, leading the charge.

His armor was that of Dragonbone, with a great, scaly helm with dragon horns upon his head. DSP nearly passing out in fangasm-

"Oh my Gods!" He shrieked, "It's Throthgar! Son of bothgar! Cousin of Advar- I think, I can't fucking remember but it's the legendary dragonborn!" The warrior came forward, jerking the reigns on the hill across from the them-

"Whoa shadowmere, whoah!" The horse bucked, the armored warrior dropping off and faceplanting into the ground." Pistoff rolled his eyes,

"This clown is one of your most legendary fighters?" He got back up, dusting himself off,

"Haha! That was all part of the plan, now we ride!" He flipped himself onto his mighty steed- falling off the other side.

"On second thought, I think I will walk! Charge my great army! Haha!" Suddenly, god of war blared out, the army roaring and charging forward with a tremendous force.

"Uh…" the orc shook, DSP thinking a moment,

"Jolly Co-operation!" he exclaimed, getting his phone and calling all the sunbros he knew, an army of Gough, Giant Blacksmith, Vamos, Solaire, Siegmeyer, Beatrice, and tons of other important people riding in while Pistoff called in his colossal force of covenants since he only had a minor stake in the whole universe and promised them all you can eat sweetrolls.

"Charge!" the armies ran at eachother, mountains shaking, blades clashing, framerates dropping, lightning spears tossed, shields breaking, spys dominating, cat's meowing, cans getting kicked, melons getting carved, lord's blades fornicating-

On and on the glorious battle went, powered by Alienware and 100 hours of editing footage, until the armies were whittled down. Only the duo and Throthgar were relevant enough to mention as the slo mo cam was activated, the dragonborn charging forth with a great modded sword of doom, swathed with 9000 damage and 500 elemental damage all categories with a bow that shot rainbows and a quiver that dispenses mead, which he promptly got drunk on because he is Throthgar, the motherfuckung dragonborn!

"Taste my blade foul creature!" he called in his bombastic tone, bringing his sword down, DSP shrieking and jabbing the parry button, reflecting his greatsword against all probability-

"Ah, good heavens I seem to have slipped a little!" he called, floating midair and flinging his legs like a madman, DSP just staring-

"Riposte him you dumbass!" the orc roared, DSP snapping out of it and going full Vader on his ass, dragging him in and stabbing. And thus Throthgar was no more. The two sat in the grass a moment, panting-

"It seems this crazy thing follows fucked up Anime logic, which each guy stronger than the last." DSP grumbled, "I hope we at least get to-"

He was cut off by a great flash of light, launching their asses to the other side of the cosmos for another round of happy fun time-


	4. Round 4

The two, after traversing more rainbow filters, dropping into a large, open field, standing up and surveying the wide, picturesque fields and large fortress nearby, the sun still bright and happy.

"Great, were still stick in this anus of rainbows!" the orc shouted, kicking the dirt, when a deep, melodramatic voice called to them-

"Welcome to the arena." He bayed, the great portcullis to the gate opening up on its own accord, "Please, enter. If you dare."

"You don't sound scary!" The orc called back, the duo stepping through the gateway, DSP secretly praying it wasn't the sociopathic nut who murdered a hundred people a hundred ways… _**for fun**_! (dun dun dun! Mans1ay3r reference)

They stepped in, viewing a great, armored figure on a throne above them. It was black as knight, with gleaming silver plates and red light pouring from within, only it looked twisted and scaled, with glowing red eyes.

"I am your Host, Mr. Rhexx." he called, "welcome."

"Okay, so we have to kick this guy's ass next." Pistoff shrugged, "let's do this!"

"Wait!" DSP cried, "You have no idea what he's capable of! He uses- *scary lighting* - Dark Magic!"

"Oh really." The Orc laughed, "I'd love to see that!"

"Challenge Accepted." Rhexx laughed, teleporting from his throne to the ground in an instant.

"What? Since when is teleport a spell!" Pistoff barked, mad with spell envy,

"This… is only the beginning." Rhexx growled through his scary voice filter, "Behold the awesome might of my dark power." He put his hands out and froze, a queue jumping from the ground and lines of nonsensical text flowing across, DSP shitting enough bricks to build a blast wall to protect himself-

"Ruuun is too late for us!" he screamed, Pistoff rolling his eyes, "How bad could he possibly-"

Suddenly, all his clothes disequiped spontaneously, his gender switching to female-

"What-" time froze, Rhexx stacking 100 Fus Ro Dahs in the voice, before releasing, FemPistoff getting his with all the Force Balance Push and getting launched into the stratosphere with a great shriek as she disappeared into the distance.

He turned on DSP, four chickens suddenly appearing at his feet-

"That's not so bad-" he squeaked from inside his shelter, before the chickens suddenly ballooned to 10X size and fired lazors from their toothy beaks, vaporizing his hovel-

"Destroy him pretties, uahhahahaha!" he cackled, the scrub running in terror as the modded chickens took to pursuing him, their lazors breaking the ground and sending up plumes of dust-

"It's a nightmare!" He screamed, tears cascading from his face in huge jets as Pistoff came around the other side of the word and smashed into a tower, bouncing off and shaking his head, the dark master turning on his prey-

"Welcome back." Pistoff gulped hard. This was a little harder than he expected-

The codes of Armageddon flashed over reality, a dozen frost dragons and grey beards suddenly popping out of the ether and running at the orc as he/she took off running-

"This shit isn't what I signed up for!" he roared, his feet suddenly kicking midair at top speed, though he was crawling forward war too slow to defend himself-

He'd been slowhacked! The command flowing form the lord of darkness, only for a great bolt of lightning to strike him in the side of the head, the bold reflecting off his armor-

DSP preyed that, now that the chickens had been slain, he would have a chance, but alas the lord simply pointing to the dreaded command: **TGM : ON**

"Your powers weak, noob." He cackled, putting his hand out and unleashing a stream of fire, only instead of fire it was an endless stream of cheesewheels!

The wheels exploded the walls of the fortress as they were swept around. _He cannot be beaten with mere balance_- DSP thought, wondering what he could do, before he realized there was only one force great enough to vanquish him-

"Pistoff!" he yelled, the female Orc trying to out box the ultimate ganksquad at her completely nonexistent speed-

"What?!" She shouted back,

"You must tell me how to access _the forbidden code_." She blushed,

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Come on, the fate of your Skyrim virginity and my home in Solitude are in jeopardy! You don't know the commands but I may still have a chance." The orc couldn't do it- unravel the secrets within her, that she knew how to access _it_-

"Fine. Egorapterrulz." Time seemed to stop a moment, a great wall of green code going down a wall of black in DSPs mind.

_-Uber Muler 9000 Activated, what shall I mule for you today Dee Ess Pee?-_ A mechanical woman said to his brain and stuff.

Move sets were swapped, inventories stocked, values set to over 9000, a tremendous eruption of destructive power radiating form the scrub, the great black mage shielding his eyes moment as the scrub stood in full Havel's Armor + 5, a +5 Black knight Halberd in one hand with a Manus catalyst in the other hand.

"Getting yourself a new set of armor will not save you knave…" The Havel demon remained frozen, his animations freezing in the casting pose, "What is this?" Suddenly, the scrub exploded forward at the speed of light, landing past the dragons as a thousand dark bolts of power materialized out of nothing and shot them down.

The Greybeards tried to shout at him, but they passed right through, as his hitbox deleted, the Havel Demon running forward in a blur and cutting them all down with his infinite damage halberd.

He froze again, the force of lagswitch crossed with endless stamina and the dreaded Dark Wood Grain Ring launching him into a ninjaflip of death into the dark lord, his halberd stabbing him a hundred times a second, but alas the lord was unruffled-

"You have only just discovered the power of game breaking-"

"Pistoff!" He barked, "That key that looks like a squiggle line, the one that says do not touch!"

"Yeah?"

"Mash that motherfucker!" Rhexx got a concerned look in his helm,

"Wait, _don't _hit the squiggle key!" But it was too late, the world breaking as the force of a reset blew through the land, Pistoff cracking his knuckles in his full, regular form, only now he had full Sthalrim armor with fists made of burning mercury,

"Two hackers versus one is not fair sport." The ultra modder growled, "I propose we-"

**-TGM : Off-**

"Oh Dear." They laid in, tearing him apart with the power of their uber charges. The remains ejected to Sovengarde. They lay down, panting, Pistoff hitting the forbidden squiggle key and restoring himself back to normal, looking at DSP-

"Well…"

"Hey, this is how a game is meant to be played!" He cheerily laughed, "Now I can actually fight!"

"You're cheating, you realize that? Youu are fucking haxing the game because you have no goddamn skill ya bitch!" he roared, DSP laughing, until he was hit by a dark ray and shed all his power, sighing.

"Congratulations." Marvelous Chester snickered, "I knew you could do it. Now that the warm-ups are out of the way, it's time for the game to get _exciting_!"

"We're tired as fuck!" Pistoff barked, "Can't we at least get a coffee break or something?"

"Mmmmmmmm-" The duo leaned forward in anticipation, just maybe- "No." The haggard duo was then launched to another universe, nothing but sorry and shitstains ahead…


	5. Round 5

This time, the venue was a great, steel structure, an endless cityscape of demolished buildings and structures as far as the eye could see, a swath of dust slowly creeping by.

"Where the fuck is this?!" Pistoff barked, looking at the modern skyscrapers, DSP at a loss as well.

"It's good to see you." They turned their gaze to their next opponent, a tall, fairly slender man with a great, badass leather cloak billowing around him with shoulder length, silver hair rimming his dark face and a great, dark Washing Pole longer than his entire body at his side-

"Who the fuck are you!?" DSP barked, when a great, booming theme radiated out. A theme so legendary even one living under a rock would know who it belongs to-

"Sephiroth!?" Pistoff snapped in disbelief, "What the fuck are you doing here, you aren't even part of this game!"

"On the contrary," the one winged angel growled in his orgasm inducing voice, "People from all worlds have been lining up miles for the opportunity to partake in this tournament, both for ratings and for the sheer bliss of it."

"What!?"

…

Meanwhile…

…

"Piss off, I was here first!" Dante shouted, brandishing his duel pistols,

"Do you have any idea who am!" Alucard (The Hellsing one) retorted, his gold glasses flashing in the lounge of batshit anarchy, as there were many of them and precious few spaces.

"Well I wore it better!" Dante retorted,

"Fuck you both, It's the Black Baren's time to shine!"

"I must protect my friends!"

"Fuck you Ichigo! I will be hokage someday!"

"_HAX_!" Screamed the good doctor, a monitor flying from nowhere and smashing the obnoxious blonde ninja,

"That heavy is a spy!"

"Gaaaaah!" Cried the heavy, his machinegun sweeping over the room with an insane flash of bullets until he was macheteed by Jason Voorhees.

"I love you, you love me…" Barney sang as the lounge filled with explosions and projectiles from all directions, people flipping their shit.

"Aren't you going to do something?" Snake murmured while Spike Spiegal just lounged calmly,

"Hey, what happens, happens." He smiled calmly, the power of his godlike cool reflecting a knife tossed at him.

…

"Great!" the orc barked, Sephiroth summoning a storm over the land,

"Now, prepare yourselves for my wrath!" He cried, the fangirl screams hitting seismic levels by the time he lunged with his sword. The three crossing blades with the legend among gaming, their blades clashing so hard the damage counter appeared midair as he kept them at bay easily.

They collapsed the building under them, Pistoff using become ethereal an catching DSP before gravity could claim him-

*next time scrub, next time*

They hit the ground hard, Sephiroth just hovering midair like a boss and jumping into the air, coming down and bringing forth a meteor the size of a universe rimmed with galaxies, each planet they passed evaporating-

"Are you fucking serious!?" Pistoff cried as they were engulfed, the counter coming up as 10 damage to Pistoff and a miss for DSP, Sephiroth hitting the ground by them. Fucking overblown special moves-

"Compensating for something, Mary!" the orc barked, the swordsmen sweeping towards them with his Crisis core theme, the damage boost so great he launched the orc into a building… then leveled fifteen buildings behind that building!

DSP backstabbed with his omega hornet ring- only to weep as the 1700 damage barely scraped his lifebar, Sephiroth coming around and using thundera to electrocute him.

"His power level is too high, we don't stand a chance!" the scrub cried, Pistoff emerged from the rubble, wondering what to do, when it came to him…

Bullshit character quirks…

"Hey, Daisy!" Sephiroth turned,

"Any last words before I destroy your pitiful lives?"

"Yeah: Yo momma so ugly, when she uses sunlight maggot in the tomb of giants, the skelingtons run away from her!" The one winged angel just stood there.

"Are you serious, I am-"

"Yo mama so dirty, the Adjudicator refused to use lick!"

"That's getting on my-"

"Yo mama so fat, the slayer of Demon's summoned her and thought she was the Adjudicator!

Yo mama so dumb, she used the club on a pure dex build!

You mama so slow, she needed a wheelbarrow to get past the red flying dragon!

Yo mamma so old, Biorr the Elder refused to put a ring on it!

Yo mama so dirty, she takes her baths in the Blightbog!

Yo mama so poor, Patches started a donation to give her trinkets!

Yo mama so perverted, all the demons, hollows, drakes, skelingtons, and dragons leave town whenever she visits!

Yo mama so dumb, she tries to summon red phantoms to help her in boss fights!

Yo mama so short, even the Anor Londo archers couldn't see her!

Yo mama so fat, she needed a crane to stay afloat in the Abyss!

Yo mama so loud, the Slumbering Dragoncrest Ring woke up!"

"Enough!" Sephiroth roared, his voice breaking, "That's not funny, that is mean! You meanie!"

"Suck tit bitch!" Pistoff snapped, hitting him with a copy of Lusty Argonian Maid he procured, a crack appearing a moment before Sephiroth exploded because of emotions and shit…

DSP limped over to the Orc, the two haggard fighters exchanging glances an instant before they were allowed to go home to their families.

….

Naw, I'm just screwin with ya! *Bweem*


	6. Round Sechs

The two were hurdled into a new realm once more, the duo crash landing in a dark, dense woodland, a canopy sitting overhead, blocking the pale moonlight and stars above, several crumbling ruins lying about. Pistoff stood, laughing:

"Hey, I know this place!"

"Yeah?" DSP replied, the orc getting his weapons and glancing about,

"It's Darkroot garden, where gankers go to fuck shit up." He mumbled, "Prepare your ass…" There was a looming silence, DSP gulping hard,

"You know, that Chester guy said the warmups were done… so does this mean people will only get more dangerous from here?"

"Well, if Sephiroth is the best they have, I'm sure we have nothing to worry about." There was a sudden chill in the air, a great rumble that comes from being invaded piercing the air, though it had more of a host feel-

DSP looked down at the name and snorted, "What kind of dumbass name is that?" Pistoff's breathe froze in his throat, an all-consuming terror rushing through him, as he slowly looked to the trees-

"No." A dark presence appeared, his elegant royal armor draped with a blue surcoat, his steel helm gleaming in the moonlight-

"Who is this clown?" DSP Laughed, Pistoff shaking him,

"Don't you get it! We're fucking doomed!" He screamed, the stranger drawing a heavy, curved sword from his side and rubbing his talisman upon it, lightning arcing over the polished steel, "That's the most goddamn infamous gank spanker in history, he fucking eats scrubs for breakfast! His very name brings nations to their knees!" DSP blinked,

"Oh." Oroboro the Ninja sprinted into battle, DSP launching a great soulspear, only for the ninja to go into an epic as fuck Ninja flip and phase right through the attack, following that with a few more flips, DSP bringing out his shield, the man kicking the shield aside and then mashing L1 with all his might, DSP gasping as his legs locked into place, too stunned to escape the blitzkrieg-

Pistoff came up behind him, his unrelenting force shout evaded with one great flip backwards, putting the great warrior behind him-

"Not like this…" he was backstabbed, the lightning jarring his very brain, before he was kicked off, hitting the dirt with a sliver of life-

"Retreat!" He cried, him and DSP running for it with the destroyer in tow, diving behind some trees.

"Where'd you go!" Oroboro called in his playful, bombastic voice, sweeping around with his dreaded stunlocker of oblivion, "Come out and play with me!" He laughed, the two hunkering down, the orc gulping-

"I want to get off the ride now."

"Don't worry, we'll beat him like we beat the others: by cheesing the fuck out of them, he must have a weakness!" The Orc Thought a moment,

"There is one, but you must do exactly what I say…"

The orc used throw voice, the derpiest of all shouts, but it got his attention, Oroboro running in while DSP stepped out, locking onto him and feeling the panic rising-

_I can't do this, I'll get murderized…_

But the orc was prepared, blasting him with courage, DSP pulling off his helm as the gank spanker ran in, his head exploding into that of a great dragon. It took incredible precision, but the scrub closed his eyes tight, his entire body going rigid as a post as he rotated on his axis and started spewing prism stones, turning back around and whopping him in the face with the glowing rock-

Oroboro froze, looking down at the growing pile of rocks, DSP strafing around until he was surrounded in a circle, the legendary ninja laughing-

"What the fuck!?" He continued to laugh, sounding more and more distorted as a great mist swept over the land and the colors blurred together, psychedelic music slowly rising as he lost his senses-

He ran into the dragon headed scrub, "Stop, no more…" he choked out in fits of laughing, his high starting to screw with his molecules as he begun to jump around the sparkling land, launching off a cliff and falling to his death-

"His weakness is goddamn prism stones?" DSP muttered, "And I thought Skooma was bad." Chester came on with his signature laugh-

"Congratulations, you have defeated Oroboro, are you ready for the next challenge?"

"No!"

"Marvelous!"


	7. Round VII

After the last round, they left the darkness and disparity of Darkroot behind them, landing once more in Tamriel, noticing how bright and vibrant the colors were now, like a novice anime.

"Finally, a break." The Orc groaned, DSP looking about,

"Don't be too sure, you never know what they may hit us with." The scrub mumbled, his nipples cringing with fear at what may hit them. They heard the sounds of hoofs pounding the ground, the two looking towards the horizon at the shape coming up on them.

"What the hell is that?" The orc squinted, noticing the shape looked nothing like a man, much too tall and hunched over his saddle, leaning back to take swig of something before falling off his horse, tumbling to a stop and standing, the scrubs eyes dilating wide:

"The Legends, they were true…" Before them stood a great, slightly pudgy bear, a horned iron helm set atop his curious eyes with a plain iron sword in one hand and a urn of mead in the other, the bear looking down to the bottom and moaning:

"A fucking bear?" Pistoff sighed as the bear dropped his urn and roared towards them,

"_But, there is one they fear…"_ The badass narrator called, DSP raising his shield and praying it would hold, _"In their tongue he is Dovahbear: Ursaborn!"_

"Oh gods…"

Dovahbear unleashed a beam of force from his maw, blowing DSP off his feet and running forward on his surprisingly powerful stubby legs.

"Come on, show me what you're made of!" The Bear launched forward in the mother of all roundhouse kicks, obliterating Pistoff's poise and bringing his blade down in an arc, Pistoff nearly breaking an arm when he blocked, their blades crossing in a rapid flurry of slashes-

"This… is…" Before he could finish, Dovahbear smashed him over the side of the head with his mighty iron shield, knocking the orc off his feet and stabbing him through the chest with a mighty thrust, slicing him in half for good measure-

"And the Dragonborn is down!" Chester laughed, "About time!" DSP looked up from the dirt, the legendary Dovahbear skulking towards him with a great boast from his droopy jowls:

"Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuu!"

"No!" the scrub cried, anything but that!" The warrior surged forward, DSP drawing his great zweihander and swinging, his blow getting shrugged off before he was hit with a great volley of DMC style slashes and blasted into a tree.

He was just not powerful enough to defy a badass of that caliber, the bear coming to finish him off, when a beehive dropped from a bough, the iron sword dropping as some honey spilled out the side.

Dovahbear lifted the husk, peeling it open and slurping the honey happily, incapacitated from fighting.

"And, there goes Dovahbear, and he was so close too." Chester sulked, "But, the next round, nothing contrived can save your pitiful souls…" He grinned, teleporting him away.


	8. Round F8 Stay Night

Through the anus of time and space the duo was launched, until they were shat out somewhere in Anor Londo, Pistoff materializing out of nowhere by DSP. The scrub shuttered, flashbacks of arrows flying and sentinels PWNing him-

"Not this place again." He cringed, noticing the main hall of the divine palace was packed with spectators, all of them whistling and cheering, "That, cannot be good…" he sighed, looking around and noticing something was missing,

"I want to die." He sobbed, "I lost to a bear. In Skyrim"

"But it wasn't a bear, it was Dovahbear, there's a big difference!" He panicked, knowing he'd need Pistoff's help to succeed in a round this advanced, the audience still cheering and at the edges of their seat in eager anticipation,

Who would command such an audience?

"Well," the orc sighed, getting up again, "I guess I can try to redeem myself, who are we fighting?" The doors at the far end of the cathedral slowly opened, a grim silhouette falling over the land as the face of no mercy came into focus.

"Power up the Bass Cannon…" He boomed,

"Fire!" The audience roared, a great blast of pyrotechnics and bass drop booming over the hall as the legend himself stepped out with his arms out to the people, his golden mask swiveling to the sides to take in his adoring fans, his giant's armor and blue cloak looking pimpin in the cathedral. Pistoff laughed:

"We are so fucked."

"What is that thing?" DSP gulped, seeing the heavy armor and mighty zweihander, a swathe of green energy feeding the infinite war machine,

"Chaoshander Giantdad!" He boomed, everyone mouthing along, "Bandit, Soul Level 99."

"Well, here it goes…" the scrub gulped, running for it with his own zweihander,

"Stop! He's too Meta!" the orc cried, his words lost on the scrub as he swung, the Legend catching the blade with his bare fist-

"Wut are you, Casul?" He growled, crushing the puny blade in his fist, "Shudna Fukn firgot yer chaos enchantment, you fukn fagit." The scrub took a golden boot to his stomach, his head demolishing a support pillar and collapsing part of the ceiling and falling to the ground-

"How…" he grumbled, the legend holding up his mighty left hand-

"Hevel's Ring, And Favor and Protection. Health, Stamina, Endurance- Evrythin yu culd evr want!" Pistoff managed to get behind the legend,

"Fus-" Giantdad lightspeed rolled to the side, flipping around and hitting the orc with poise damage beyond poise damage, hitting him again and again with bonecrushing stamina. DSP recovered and ran around, the legend ceasing his assault a moment and blasting the scrub in the face with a great plume of black fog, then another-

"Blackflame- Blackflame- that meens NG+ Bithcs." The Legend oneshotting the feeble scrub and turning to his audience and delivering his signature pose- going tense when an audible *ping* was heard, Pistoff de-cloaking

-Sneak Attack Critical 30x!

Giantdad dropped, the orc laughing.

"That's what you get!" His voice dying when the Legend's lifebar refilled, standing again while his wound closed-

"You only live once…" He turned on the brick shitting orc, "Unless yur a legend." There was no way to prevail, hope subsiding just as a massive boom was heard from outside, a giant sentinel getting blasted into the wall in a pile of goop-

They turned to the now open door to the cathedral, the invader running in. He held a rusty pickaxe in hand with callused, worn hands, his great bushy beard shaded by a broad rimmed work hat.

"Out of the way fukng Noblemen, Peasant commin thro!" The crowd was awestruck as the raggedy peasant stepped through the threshold, replacing his pickaxe with a great scythe, breathing in the cool air.

"Gud sesin for crops, bet you didnt evn kno that." Giantdad ignored the orc, turning to the interloper while the security forces got the fuck out-

"Can't kill a Legend-"

"Noblmen swerve-" he blasted over the ground, his scythe smashing the Giantdad into the wall and carving a fissure in the marble, "Whn Im done Im Pull ur cart." The Legend got back up and Pwned him,

"Peasent? More like-"

!Nuclear Launch detected - Croppolo 18!

The clashed bass canon vs crops- a blue screen flashing

*ERROR – System exception 505, A Fatal system error was detected, dumping all virtual memory*

When Pistoff awoke, he was in another world by DSP, Chester's voice crackling,

"Eh, sorry about that. We tried to keep that thing out of this, but that peasant let's nothing stand in his way. They broke Anor Londo, so I guess you can advance."

The duo cringed, waiting for the beam to zap them, but it never came.

"Aren't you going to drag us off."

"No, you get a breather this time, get some coffee or something until you feel comfortable with the next fight. You are not ready."

"The fuck we're not, I want to go home now!" the orc barked, Chester retorting,

"You thought the Legend was Meta? You though Sephiroth was OP? You thought that Dovahbear was absurd? Beyond this point lies forces that make the people you've fought so far shit their pants in terror and spray tears of anguish over the walls. These people are so twisted, so dark they give _me_ nightmares of agony! You. Are. Not. Ready!" Pistoff gulped:

"Well, I guess we can rest a little bit…" DSP ate some moss,

"What could be more horrifying than the Legend?"

"I don't know, but I guess this artificially tension building ending will reveal it soon enough…"


	9. Round Praise the Sun

The Scrubs, after a period of rest and relaxation, were transported to the roof of a dark castle filled with molten magma, the flows slowly creeping under long, iron bridges below with volcanos erupting in the distance, Pistoff facepalming,

"Great, as if it couldn't get any worse, now we're stuck in the land of my retard brother!"

"Is it really that bad?" DSP gulped, the orc shaking his head,

"No, unless you count shitty unbalanced combat as bad!"

"Oh," he sighed, a bass drop marking the coming of their next opponent,

He stepped out from the other side of the Belfry, dressed in gaudy golden robes and a ridiculous dildo turban,

"Great, a Jerimiah cosplayer." Then, a second stepped out, a third getting on the other side, the middle one waving while the two on the sides lit torches and ravelorded. The orc gulping,

"A fucking gank squad, just what we need." But, the three just stood back, the great whoosh of an invader sounding as a pair of grey phantoms in a full Straid cosplay came to the edges, drawing their sunset staves and casting a few homing crystal masses for stars.

*w00t! Forbidden Solar System has evolved! Forbidden Solar System became Forbidden Galaxy!

"Are you fucking serious!?" Pistoff shouted, DSP lifting his shield,

"Well, on the bright side-" there came the whoosh of two invaders came, two red phantoms in- brace yourselves-

Licia of Lindelt cosplay.

Back at the stands, people screamed and smashed the nearest inanimate object,

"Fuck you you fucking whore!"

"Miracle spamming bitch I hate you!"

"Bear my Children!"

"…"

"Kill the heretic!"

"Yaaaaaaaaaaah!"

The Twin Licias drew their dragon talismans and cast heal, the great plumes forming nevulae

-W0000t Forbidden Galaxy Mega Evolution completed! Forbidden Galaxy became Forbidden Universe!

"God no…"

"Who in their right mind though this was a good idea!" DSP screamed, Yui raising her solitary hand.

"Alright, just don't panic…" He mumbled as they started raving and beckoning,

"Iron Pineapple, Abyss Gravelord, dmtinfernocide, OnlyAfro, Krazy999, PeevePeeverson, and Oroboro the Ninja-"

"I'm back from the dead! Haha!"

"Don't panic…"

"Present: _Genocide_!"

"Panic!" The orc screamed, the duo fleeing as a hail of lightning bolts, forbidden suns, and showering soul masses came towards them in a great column of death, the two hiding behind a pillar as the Forbidden Universe lit up the land, the Smelter Demon lounging in a lawnchair and chugging a slurpie as he watched the n00bs getting their asses kicked.

The barrage of magic ceased, Pistoff peaking out-

"Alright, now we-" they all drew a grey weed with black stripes, eating them in unison to replenish their spell uses, "Are you-" He yipped and ducked behind the wall as a soul spear blew by, trying to think.

"All you have to do is dodge!" A Dark Souls II scrub scoffed, snorting and adjusting his glasses,

"Are you seeing this, it's literally fucking impossible!" Pistoff heard numerous footsteps, the Universe rounding the corner and waving as they prepared their barrage, the orc grabbing DSP and hold the scrub before him,

"You are my shield, rejoice in your death!"

"Hey, I'm not-" DSP was fucked up by all forms of magic, Pistoff sliding back under the force of all the spells, until they ran out, the dovahkiin Wilhelm rushing their numbers with a kamikaze shout, the Universe spicing up.

He found himself trapped in the middle of the ring, all of them standing around and readying themselves to fire, the volleys of destruction magic flying from all directions just as Pistoff used the batshit overpowered Become Ethereal shout-

The Spells passed through, their numbers unable to dodge as the red phantoms electrocuted the grey phantoms, the grey phantoms speared the host and white phantoms, and the host exploded the red phantoms.

They all fell, the last one standing unphased, before he faded with his signature exuberant laugh-

"Oh god, got killed by the same guy, man!"

The former chosen undead thanked the stars he'd prevailed, Chesters voice coming on,

"Bravo, how you think you'll handle the next gank squad?"

"Like a boss, can't be worse than these clowns." Pistoff laughed, growing a little disconcerted a Chester laughed, and laughed, and laughed…


	10. Round Jabla Fahn!

Once again, the orc returned to the main stage, DSP smashing him upside the head,

"What the fuck was that shit!" he barked, Pistoff placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder,

"Do not worry, sometimes a sacrifice must be made for a higher cause…"

"Then sacrifice yourself asshole!"

"Ahem," Chester coughed, "Sorry, but this is a battle you will not want to slack off on. Though I warn you, what you may view may be disturbing…" _Holy shit, a battle so terrible it needs exposition…_

"Normally, this would never be allowed, as it utterly defies all conventions of war and law, but due to the nature of the competition, we were permitted to summon _them_. We lost many men scouring the deepest pits of PvP hell, and lost many more apprehending the foul creatures, but we were able to get them here, behold…"

He hit a scary button on his computer console, a set of four tremendous iron grates creeping open with a great whir of machines and grind of gears. The ground shook as great bellows rose from within the depths, the duo praying for their feeble lives as they lumbered forth, their gargantuan forms emerging from the dark…

The audience went dead silent. This was no laughing matter, anymore, a few shielding their children's eyes-

The first came forth in great stone armor, a great mechanical crossbow in each hand, the demon pointing his weapons into the air and unleashing great bouts of lightning arrows into the sky with a growl.

The second demon wore dense stone armor as well, the great, charred iron anus adorned with horns that was the smelter demon helm upon his brow, a Santier's spear in one arm with a long, elegant scimitar that could only be the dreaded Monastery Scimitar in his off hand.

The third carried great stone armor and a long lance, his form crouching down and buffing himself with thunder from the heavens- then a cloud of numb- then a resonating energy cloak- the monster continuing his merciless buffing as the forth demon lumbered forth-

Of them all, he was the most horrifying, many of the audience members vomiting blood and fleeing for the nearest bathroom. He waddled forth in tremendous, Iron clad armor that resembled a great tortoise shell, a Sunset staff in one hand and dragon chime gently ringing in the other while he peered through his emotionless grey mask.

Pistoff senses grew overwhelmed as he fell to his knees, feeling the despair radiating towards him,

The Havelyn, The Turtlemage, The Immovable Object, and Meta the Destroyinator. The Four Havelmonsters of the Apocalypse.

Apart, they were the bane of all PvP, together they were a force of darkness on the level of Miley Cyrus.

"Well… um…" Chester stuttered, trying hard to bite back the tears of remorse, "You may fight whenever you are ready."

"We could never be ready for this." Pistoff sobbed, the four Havelmonsters letting up great moans and trudging forward, an earthshaking boom resounding wherever their feet fell.

Havelyn was the first to strike, a great row of bolts erupting from his crossbows and sending the duo ducking for cover, though the Immovable object was already on the case, running around the side, a deep, ominous breathing coming from his helm as he lay clouded in buffs, thrusting for them.

Pistoff and DSP laid into him, but immovable object is immovable, his armor soaking the blows as he continued to sweep for them, the two breaking off as the Havelyn peppered the area with a machingun fire of bolts

But, as they fled one they came right into the face of two more adversaries, Turtlemage and Meta, the great giant's Anus coming towards them with Santier's "spear" whirling with enough force to slip stones, the two fleeing, hearing the sound of a catalyst charging-

"He's using Dark Majick! Save Yourself!" Pistoff cried, DSP parting ways as a great bolt of dark blew by and exploded a Schnitzel cart, the Bavarian treats raining over the land as Meta closed on DSP, the other three lumbering towards the orc, who spammed whirlwind sprint like no tomorrow to get away.

The new chosen undead faced down the Anus-faced demon, his spear held aloft to unleash hell and Spin2win blitzkriegs, the chosen trying to counter-

Before he took so much as half a step, the scimitar at his side whirled, the undead stopping as the animation stopped, only for it to parry again-

*parry

*parry

*parry

"Hey, are you going to attack or-"

*parry

*parry

*parry

"Look, that's getting-"

*parry

*parry

*parry

The scrub sighed, drawing his talimen and blowing the spammer to smithereens with his sunlight spear. DSP saw the new dovahkiin still shouting with all he had, the three closing in but unable to match his agility, though the Havelmonsters were still a force to be reckoned with.

He snuck up on the mage, who was currently launching a shower of soul spears, stabbing him in the back, only to see the blade bounce harmlessly off the side, the turtle mage wheeling around, his lifeless black holes for eyes peering into the scrub's very soul.

"Nope." He executed, running for it-

A blinding light radiated over the land, the scrubs feet dragging into the ground with a white ring around him, the audience screaming in rage and indignation as Chester apologized that they'd had to see this again, thanks to the Crown of the Sunken king, for DSP had fallen into the grasp of a force not even gravity could match in sheer awe inspiring terror:

The Tranquil Walk of Peace.

He turned, the mage bringing up his catalyst and dumping his souls into the mother of all Dark Majick, his souls swelling and bubbling in him until he climaxed, spewing the ray at the scrub and watching as he was disintegrated down to the last molecule on the titanic nuclear Tsar Bomba of an explosion, the figure lumbering back around to reap more sorrow-

Pistoff at last grounded the immovable object when his buffs ran out, only just strafing around the Havelyn as he did his Havelyn thing spewing bolts. The orc seemed to vanish a moment, Havelyn scratching his head a bit before an arrow prodded his knee, the X3 damage felling the great beast.

The orc chugged a few stamina buffs, coming face to face with the evilest of all masticators, Turtlemage drawing his porcine shield and doing an odd dance in challenge of the orc, Pistoff going berserk mode and rushing the mage as he crouched down with his talimen-

Sadly, Pistoff could not stunlock him out of the WoG, and was blown away, landing hard on his back as the mage drew a flame and started launching his great forbidden suns with a vengeance, the orc fleeing-

"Dammit I just got past this shit!" He was caught off guard by a flame swathe, the turtle launching a barrage of Soul Geyser at his stunned form, pinning him for a cast of the old Pursuers, the fucking officially royal. When a shout came to mind:

"Tiid Klo Ul!" The crippled dragonborn shouted, the world gaining a blue hue as the projectiles stopped midair, the Orc smirking and whistling as he went around, stepping behind the mage and watching the spell break, the Pursuers screeching to a halt and flying back at the caster with a boom-

And thus, the Havelmonsters were slain.

"You're still alive down there? Very impressive" Chester chortled, the orc glaring up at him,

"Is that it? I can't imagine anything worse than this."

"There are four rounds left, actually," he snickered, "But you've come this far, don't give up now."

He was transported to the next land, Chester hearing one of his coworkers screech and looking down indignantly-

"Where are my blasted pants!?"


	11. Round Piano

The duo crash landed in a large town, various destroyed and decaying buildings in the berg, DSP and Pistoff noticeably shaken after their last encounter.

"So, are we done yet?" The Orc sighed,

"Ten Down. Four to go."

"Four!?" The scrub shouted, losing it, "Are fucking serious!? After all we've done they still have four more challenges, I just want to go home now!" Pistoff slapped him upside the head,

"Pull yourself together! We must weather this onslaught, no matter how bad it gets. Besides, with Dragon shouts this OP, we may have a fighting chance."

"But they've already thrown _everything_ at us! We've seen the eye of the nightmare and spat in its face, what could they possibly have left."

"_Me._" The duo flipped around, a figure stepping forth from the mire, a chorus to his glory seeming to ring as he strode forth.

He wore only the barest rags for armor, the crest shield upon his arm, with a club reinforced with flame, the fresh smell of SL 1 in the air, yet there was a gleam in his eye and bounce in his step that made Pistoff cringe. DSP gulped:

"He doesn't look so tough, I mean compared to the others…"

"There may be others," the Paragon whispered, "But there are none like me, for I have done the impossible…"

"Defeated the Lost Sinner with your bare fists?"

"No, that was Joe, I- am Emmeral." The orc felt an explosion of awe and despair crush upon hearing that name.

"So?" DSP snapped, "We can take him! Right?" The orc cowered in place, unable to move and barely able to breathe. Before them was no scrub, nor any _ordinary_ gud player.

This was the man that completed the highest difficulty level in the game at a mere SL 1…

DSP charged, his zweihander flailing forward, Emmeral lightly closing his eyes-

He parried the blade aside lunging forward and smashing him down with his club, then up, the scrub attempting to knife him, only to find Emmeral behind him, the critical backstab exploding his spine and sending him rolling away-

With extrasensory perception he leaned back a little, the stealth arrow flying harmlessly past him. Pistoff locked eyes with him, firing another shot, yet every arrow was rolled harmlessly through. This was afterall the man who beat Ornstein and Smough at level 1…

"Fus-" Emmeral launched into the air with uncanny grace, smashing Pistoff over the head and interrupting his shout, following it with a staggering kick and then smashing him with his club, punishing the orc.

DSP drew his dagger and nearly backstabbed, only for the master player to roll forward into Pistoff, the I-frames shielding him until he rolled to the side, the two flanking up on eachother.

"He's unstoppable!"

"If we can just hit him one time, our damage should wipe out his vitality."

"Perhaps, but will it ever come?" Emmeral came forward, the two scrubs getting side by side and charging,

He parried Pistoff, DSP coming from the side, only to get his blade rolled right through, swinging again and getting parried, Emmeral executing a _double riposte_.

He kicked the two away, a jump attack nearly ending Pistoff while DSP just starting spamming lightning bolts, Emmeral dodging the miracles and pinning Pistoff with ease, until DSP finally got a direct hit as Emmeral guard broke Pistoff-

The bolt went right through him as he executed a guard break attack, DSP watching Pistoff crumble into dust, the legendary player turning on him.

"You have fought valiantly, but you are no match, die with honor." DSP gulped, realizing nothing in his arsenal would kill him and resorting to just throwing random objects-

Emmeral strode forth as he was whacked in the head with prism stones, estus flasks, a few knives, a few chairs, before he was hit with a dung pie-

His toxin counter instantly maxed out, the dreaded poison draining his lifebar with great speed until he healed.

"You fool, do you really believe a mere Dung Pie can…" he was whacked again, his lifebar dropping as he healed, only to get his with an infinite dung pie barrage, as it was the only Item DSP kept from Blighttown, the legendary player eating more weed, until he froze, padding his pocket.

He had no more blooming purple moss…

He fell over, dung slowly falling off, onto the ground.

"You… you knew I would never anticipate a toxin attack and that my low level would mean almost no resistance to poison. And to think I believed you were just throwing random things me. You may be… the greatest genius I have ever duel." DSP cleared his throat,

"Yeah it was nothing, completely intentional."

"Then, I will bestow upon you a rare sight: My SL 711 build." He begun to glow brightly as he transcended existence, Chester screaming over the intercom:

"Stop! Don't look directly at it, it's so holy it will blind you!" The transmission was cut off, the scrub getting blasted with a great wave of radiant light, and through the light, he saw _it_-

"So… glorious…" he mumbled as he disintegrated under the force…


	12. Round 12222

A/N: It's been awhile, but all good things must eventually come to an end… just not now, there is still another battle after this one, you thought this was the end? You retarded bastard humpers….

* * *

When it was over, they returned to their senses somewhere in Tamriel, Pistoff rising to his feet and shaking the after effects of death off, DSP appearing near him.

"Please tell me you didn't lose," he exasperated, praying that the scrub had not cost them the match:

"No," DSP mumbled, staring into the distance, "It's all so clear now. I feel, whole."

"Umm," Pistoff mumbled, breaking off when Chester reported:

"Well, we lost half of our audience and a fraction of the universe in that last fight. One of them was our budget guy, so we need to cut this short."

"Is this the last round!?" Pistoff shouted excitedly,

"No you useless ingrate," Chester snapped, "And where did you hide my pants?"

"Just get to the duel!"

"Fine, he had to be exchanged from another realm to get here, but he agreed to come on short notice. I will ask all fangirls to please exit the stadium, we do not want to start a riot, like the Squeal of 33" he shivered, the images still trapped behind his grinning face, "The one, the only: Anne Marie!"

"I'd hit that," Pistoff smirked, "okay where's the bitch?" he swung around, nose to nose with a tall, muscular man with tumbling white hair and a bushy beard, his outfit a robe split in two: bright pink on one side and orange in the other,

"Now you're just being needlessly angry, much like that squirrel who took a bite out of my livingroom porch, that's not very sporting at all!"

"Who the fuck-?" He was drowned out by a colossal shout as everyone freaked out and jumped around his seats, Chester trying in vain to restore order as the Fangirl levels hit _over a million_ and limbs started getting forcibly no longer attached to their bodies.

"I am Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness, isn't that exciting?" Sheogorath clapped in his hearty accent, "it makes me want to boil a fox for soup in tea kettle, but I just don't have the time."

"… What?"

"Let there be cheese!" the prince called happily, a great thunderstorm whipping up, cheesy asteroids shooting form the heavens, demolishing buildings and unleashing anarchy and shit and bears and unicorns that ran around in circles in the thunderstorm, Pistoff trying to cancel the shout out with storm call, only to create more cheese!

Then, form the maternity wards came horrifying Bearicorns, followed by a deadly Bearsharktopus (it's a thing, google it), and monkeys on uncycles!

"This makes no fucking sense!" Pistoff screamed, trying to slash only to see his sword turn into an ice cream, the natural food of the Bearsharktopus, who proceeded to chase him down.

"Feel free to help any time shithead!" the orc roared to DSP, who finally snapped out of it and started taking the monsters on. He heard a deadly noise, turning to see the daedric prince carrying a twisted staff, now glowing red:

"Shit!" he wailed, running for it, only to feel the bolt pierce his back. He'd been wabbajacked! DSP had become a Lemon-

"Oh, I love lemons!" Sheogorath jumped, "one upon a time, there was a man called Christian Grey…" Not that kind of lemon! Why am I talking to you you're a part of this story!

"Perhaps I can help!" STFU Deadpool you're not even part of this universe! While the narrator was distracted, Pistoff snuck up to the lemon scrub and kicked at him a few times, snapping him out of the trance, only for him to collapse to his knees, clutching his crotch:

"You did that on purpose!"

"You were a fucking fruit! INCOMING!" They dived to the side as SPF 420 Wabbajack rays shot past them, the two narrowly dodging, seeing the route was cut off by unicycle monkeys, when Bearsharktopus jumped up nearby.

"This shit be fucked!" Pistoff screamed, the two running for their scrub lives, "We need a strategy!" DSP thought, his incredible intellect compiling a most infallible plan:

"Darude – Sandstorm!" The orc rammed him upside the head, no shit for brains, his mind finding the true answer in the bullshit:

He dug his heels in, grinding to a stop, turning to face the madness. It would take a power most powerful to take the horde on, a wabbajack hitting him in the gut, turning him into a 2D animu gurl, just his luck, as he put his hands to his head:

"CARAMELDANSEN DANCE!" He raved in place, the horde stopping, DSP facepalming at the sight, before Sheogorath joined in, then the bearsharktopus, DSP sighing and reluctantly joining.

Though it took far into the night, eventually they wore him down, Sheogorath going to bed on a plate after turning into a sweetroll, Pistoff nomming him and returning to normal.

"That's it," he panted, "one more round, and we never have to do this ever again."

"Yeah," DSP snickered, "nice dance" the orc grabbed him by the throat,

"We never speak of this again…"

"Too late!" Chester called, "we already posted it to Youtube, wow 1,000,000,000,000,000 views and 3 likes already."

"Whatever," the orc growled, "there is nothing you can throw at us we haven't already faced ourselves! We have faced the torment, we have faced the nightmare, you can never take away our spirit!"

"Hold on," the announcer said, checking his feed, "Dear… everyone! We have a very special guest star coming in to view the final battle, says 'it's worth it'." Chester put up the picture, Pistoff and the audience chocking on their own air.

He was a massive, formal man in a business suit, pimping reading glasses sitting on his brow while his eyes squinted in scrutiny beneath his dusty, scraggly hair. Hidetaka Miyazaki himself.

"We're so fucked…"


	13. Le' Grandes Finalevouxesarable'

A/N: and now the thrilling conclusion to the best part of one of the stupidest things I have ever written… seriously why is this so fucking popular I shat out the concept in under a goddamn hour here!?

But, I do believe this will be the best chapter I have written for it, definitely the most inspired, so enjoy I suppose. I've been thinking, and I may, may, MAY consider restarting the Chosen Undead. I kinda miss Dark Souls and I abandoned it because I thought it wasn't creative enough to be worth it, but Mason is showing me you can make a badass story from the main plot line, so it all comes down to you, the readers…

* * *

Pistoff and DSP appeared in a small, fairly plain room, their blood going chillified as they gazed upon the sardonic Japanese type person. The one responsible for the Tomb of Giants, Manus, the Pendant, Dragon God, and Gravity. Terror would not begin to cover the feels he gave off as he adjusted his glasses, taking a sip of Coca Cola (cuz Mountain Dew is for Casuls)

"Please don't murder us." Pistoff sniffed, Miyazaki's sharp giggle sending him reeling back.

"Do not worry, my child." He spoke, his voice surprisingly soft and grandfatherly, "I did not come here to scrub your face into the dirt and murder you. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Uh…"

"Would you like a Cola?" he offered gently, drawing one from the icebox,

"Oh, sure." The Orc ever so slowly crept forward, taking it from him and popping the lid, Miyazaki tossing DSP a Dew, which he scrub hungrily,

"Ah! It's been so long!" He gulped happily, the Orc leaving his guard up,

"You're being… uncharacteristically nice…" He narrowed, Miyazaki laughing softly,

"When have I ever been cruel to you? If I didn't care why would I waste all my time patching the game when I could be working on other projects? In fact you're drinking patch 1.666 right now."

"Oh yeah!" DSP rolled his eyes, stomping his foot, "and what about all the bullshit in Blighttown, or Sen's Fortress!" he ranted, "and the Iron Golem fight, he threw me off the arena like… a thousand times-"

"But I gave you Tarkus," He retorted, raising an eyebrow, "And if you went that far without a bonfire, you should have realized I hid it somewhere. If you stopped running ahead assuming the game would just give you everything and took a moment to strategize and optimize your equipment, you would hardly ever die, why, once you learn to parry the game becomes easy, so easy even my incompetent associate realized he had to reduce the frames-"

"But you put in the Tomb of Giants-"

"And included a Sunlight Maggot, and in a place where you'd have to be a complete idiot not to realize it was there since it was placed in the shortcut to a bonfire, and it has a lore reason for being there." The Orc paused, thinking about it,

"Well, I guess you can counter everything you throw at us…"

"Psh, Lore!" DSP snapped, "There was like no Lore it was just killing a bunch of random monsters." Miyazaki facepalmed,

"You didn't read the item descriptions, did you?"

"No."

"Well, if you did, you would know there is a vast story behind the events of the game and all the enemies you fight. You can play without seeing a reason for everything, but those who actually_ try_ to understand the hidden level of storytelling will get far more out of the game. It's your own fault you weren't persistent enough."

"Well we have great lore too-"

"Yes, I never said you didn't Elder Scrolls has a superb backstory and many good moments of hidden storytelling, or telling the lore through the world itself. But they are only moments, what made Souls special is that it is given, but never clarified: no matter how solid your theories are, there is always a mystery surrounding the world. Of course," he growled, rubbing his eyes, "true art is not for everyone: some people want it given to them, but it isn't their fault: if they can't understand the game, it may not be for them, that was the point: was to do something so different people sick to death of the same saccharine good vs evil god level strength crap could find an alternative." DSP and Pistoff had little to say to that, glancing at eachother uncomfortably,

"But," he concluded, finishing his Coke and getting up, "This has been fun, but you still have a duel ahead of you, and it will be the deadliest one to date. But, I am merciful, so here is a gift to assist you," he added, throwing them a heavy bag, "may it serve you well."

With that, they vanished from the room, thrown back through the dimensions (whhhooohoho mystery)

* * *

They appeared, of all places, in another indoor space, looking about in confusion, before DSP exclaimed:

"hold on, this is my house!"

"huh?"

"Proudspire Manner! It's unmistakable", he added, looking to the stone walls of the basement, alchemy lab gently brewing in the corner with various alchamental ingredients, a pale look suddenly going over his face.

"Why the hell would they have it in here of all places?" Pistoff muttered, looking around,

"This isn't right, it doesn't make any sense, unless, unless-" DSP started panicking, looking around, "No, _no_! they wouldn't, they couldn't…" The orc slapped him upside the head,

"Dammit start making sense already!" The former dragonborn looked into the corner opiate them, pointing, the orc following his trembling hand.

There was nothing there, just a pair of wooden platforms sitting across from eachother.

"So?" DSP panted,

"They moved."

'What moved?" The orc felt cold breath down his back, turning around and jumping back.

They were two tall, humanoid figures, only made entirely of wood and straw, their hands at their sides with a blank, dead stare, and a mouth contorted in some deep frown.

"What the, it's just a couple of armor stands!" he laughed, finding DSP had run around the corner aways, shaking in terror, turning back and- "gah fuck!" he snapped, leaping back again. They had crossed the distance, standing right by him when he looked away, the orc staring, seeing them twitch to the side, then twitch again, slowly moving forward, their face never changing from that cold, dead expression.

"Okay, that's kind of freaky, alright imma kill it!" Pisstoff laughed, plunging his blade into the stuffing, only to see it pass through, doing no damage even though it made an audible scuff.

"They're coded invincible." DSP murmured, "they cannot die, or even be damaged, they don't even have a health bar."

"So uh, how do we beat them?"

"We don't." the candlelight flickered, the mannequins launching right in his face, hands up in contorted claws with their mouths open in a gaping scream, lunging for him,

"Fuck this!" Pistoff shouted, fleeing, though each time he turned away and looked back, they moved fast. Unbelievably fast, closing in on them, DSP joining him. As they sprinted up the stairs, only to run into two more, a wild Shrek appearing in the background while the giggles of Freddy Fazbear started closing in form outside –insert spooky demon garble here-

"Oh Gwyn- this is the scariest thing ever, and now I'm going to die in Skyim, _Skyrim_!" Pistoff exclaimed, bursting into tears, when he heard a sound-

"Kill the unkillable, see the invisible, reinforce the unreinforcable, parry the unparryable…"

"What!?"

"Row Row _fight the power!_" Suddenly a black sword exploded through the wall, a massive dark shape darting through the rubble so fast they barely perceived it as it crushed a mannequin in a single hit, whirling about and slicing Shrek in two while clipping a second mannequin in a single move.

The third and fourth mannequins ran up on it, but it again moved so fucking fast it was like, boom two mannequins midair then the next it was above them, a plunging attack blowing them through the floor, when finally the door crept open and the demon bear poked his head through, only to come face to thigh with the colossal deathmonster. He cracked his neck, taking a deep breath-

"boo." Freddie exploded on the spot, the knight turning his back to put the explosion behind him, because cool guys don't look at explosions. Pistoff finally got a good look at him. he was massive, so large he made the Black Knights of Lordran look like toddlers by comparison, completely covered in jet black, charred armor, with a red cape emblazoned with a black flaming skull flowing around him while his dark helm was affixed with a set of orange, narrow sunglasses that went to either side of his head in sharp points.

He was gar as fuck, DSP shouting in surprise,

"What are you doing here, I thought-"

"JUST WHO DO YOU THINK I AM!" He shouted back, throwing his colossal sword over his shoulder, "I didn't come here to talk to you," he said, looking to the Orc, who shat himself a little,

"You're… Brittney Spears!" he offered, the knight laughing,

"I don't blame you for not recognizing me, I've been away a long time: training, drinking milk, getting good, watching Lore Videos, swinging swords, chopping axes, but I am like a drill: with each turn I go forward until my sword becomes the sword that will smash the heavens!" He shouted, raising his massive black blade above his head, candlelight gleaming from his glasses,

"Wait, do I know you?" The orc wondered, running it through his mind, looking in the area where all the inconsequential stuff went, "Wait a second, you're that Draugr hack from chapter 3!"

"No, I have returned, reborn as a real man: Tengen Toppa Fume Knight Raime!" He wailed, another explosion exploding behind him:

"DSP, what do we have on this guy?" Pistoff called nervously, the scrub flicking through the YouTubes on his Blackberry,

"Brand new, just added to the game, nine- Ah! He only wins 7% of the time!" Pistoff let up a sigh of relief,

"Okay, this should be easy then, let's go!" Pistoff challenged, charging towards the figure, only for him to lunge with a sword out, the orc dodging, "that was close, you almost-"

A crushing weight fell on his head as he was hit by the second sword, his feet coming up in a dropkick that knocked him through the wall, Pistoff getting up and instantly getting nearly stomped on as he rose, rolling to the side, only to meet a 180 spin turn with his off hand, getting knocked back across the room in a heap.

"I thought… you said he was easy…" he gurgled, choking on his blood.

"He is! Is says right here: 'Raime has the highest fatality rate at 93%'!"

"fatality- THAT MEANS HE FUCKING MURDERS 93% OF EVERYONE WHO FIGHTES HIM YOU CASUL ASSHAT!"

"Oh…" a shadow fell over DSP, a hyperblitzs of stabs going through his exposed flank before he was knocked down to join Pistoff, still delirious,

"Don wory…" he groveled, "I thin I got hi moffset all figerd out no." Raime nodded,

"Indeed, that is why I have multiple movesets! Giga Fume Breaker!" The ground erupted around him his arm going to the air while his sword vanished and his larger sword erupted into fire and machinery, building up higher and higher, Pistoff's hope sinking.

"Who in the fuck trained this guy!? It's like he learned all the things players do to fight just so he counter perfectly, who has that level of-" he paused, blinking, before throwing his fists up, "_Miyazaki!_"

Said Troll god whiped a tear of pride from the side of his eye, his heart aflutter with joy.

"Go forth, my child."

DSP stood, taking his shield and sword in hand,

"Enough." He growled, a dark aura of evil enshrouding him, "I have come too far to be killed now!" He roared, "prepare yourself, for retribution!" he roared, flying through the air towards his target, Raime's sword casually sweeping across instantly-

"Yeah, damage trade!" There was a distinct thunk in the air, DSP dropping to the ground and vanishing.

"Did you just, one shot him."

"Yes."

"Huh." The orc blinked, thinking up what to do, "Well, he may be dead, but I am the one who originally trained you, I know all of your moves now!" Raime nodded, sending a ripple of light through his shades,

"Yes, therefore, I will show it to you now: my balls."

"huh- what?" Pistoff reeled,

"Yes, I needed to defeat Velstadt, and during my training grew my balls to destroy him, and everyone else who tried to hurt my waifu. Now, look at them!"

"No!" The orc shrieked, looking away and hearing a sword driving into the ground, looking back and feeling a blazing black aura wash over him, dozens of flame orbs flying towards him, "Oh, those balls-"

He pulled the bag from his side, drawing Miyazaki's blessed gift, gazing into- A Large Leather Shield +10!

"Fuck."

_**WTF booooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ahahahahahaahahaahaha muhawahaahahahahahha**_

"Well," Chester snickered, taking off his mask, "I guess they were… knighted."

=YOU DIED=

* * *

DSP appeared back in Lordran, stomping his foot, "Dammit Dammit Dammit!" he roared, taking a breath,

"Oh well, where was I?" He looked up to see Ornstein and Smough already towering over him, tapping their feet impatiently.

His screams could be heard across the ages.


End file.
